


A Cold Space

by Cthultystka



Series: The Resurfacing [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Mentions of bestiality, Other, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Psychological Trauma, Sexual Slavery, Slave Loki (Marvel), Stockholm Syndrome, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cthultystka/pseuds/Cthultystka
Summary: Another look at the broken mind of former slave, former god of mischief, Loki.





	A Cold Space

He must have dozed off. When he opens his eyes again, he's alone and the only thing greeting him is the emptiness of space. No trace of Grandmaster's cruiser. Despair starts filling him again, but before it overcomes him, he catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. He lifts his head slightly, just to know what to expect, then drops it immediately and curls up.

Thor squats at his side.

“Hi. Are you all right?”

Of course he's not. He's been kidnapped, electrocuted – repeatedly, locked in a chest and left alone. But something tells him that complaining won't do him much good, so he keeps quiet. Thor sighs and puts something in slave's hand. He looks down: a lidded cup with a straw. His fingers close around it, but he makes no further effort.

“Go on, drink,” encourages him Thor. At first slave obeys indifferently and only when the cold water touches his lips he realizes how thirsty he is. He gulps it down in seconds. “Here,” Thor takes the cup back then stands up and walks away. Only then slave lifts his head and looks around.

They're in a small, round room, observatory or lounge, with glass walls and leather sofas. Few steps connect it to an elongated cockpit with doors on both sides. Thor walks away, but stops on top of the stairs, then opens nearly invisible compartment in the wall and fills the cup from a strangely looking tap. Then he walks back to slave, making him drop his head again.

Full cup reappears in his hand. This time he doesn't need encouragement.

“Should I get you something to eat? Are you hungry?”

The sheer thought of eating now make him sick, but his stomach growls. Thor huffs with amusement then walks away to disappear behind one of the doors. He comes back after a while, carrying a tray full of transparent bags.

“Sorry, the only thing Tony packed is this disgusting sludge. I'll give you a proper meal once we're back on Midgard. I promise.”

Midgard. That name sound familiar. Yes, he remembers Midgard. He remembers...

_Biting on something cold and hard, taste of metal in his mouth. A wave of blue light washing over him, unknown power pulling him through immeasurable distance. A hard landing, his teeth cracking._

_A rush of air around him. An impact. Pain exploding in his whole body._

_“He'll make you beg for something as sweet as pain.”_

He sucks in the air, stricken by dread he doesn't remember feeling in his life. Thor sends him a puzzled glance, but slave drops his head even lower to avoid it. Thunderer doesn't comment; he sits on the floor across the slave and hands him the tray. He accepts, but once again makes no further effort. A faint, alien smell rises to his nostrils. There's a variety of dishes: pale yellow mush, some brown bits in thick sauce, different, colorful bits, also drowned in sauce, then some white grains with even different colorful bits. He can't recognize any of it. And nothing looks appetizing, nothing like small, graceful bits eaten in Grandmaster's court.

“What, are you waiting for me to feed you?” Thor asks, arching his eyebrow. Not getting an answer, he picks up the spoon laying at the side of the tray then fills it with yellow mush and start waving in front of slave's face. “Here comes Sleipnir, clipppity-clop.” Slave lunges forward and takes the spoon into his mouth. The position forces him to lift his face, just in time to see Thor freezing in shock. He spits the morsel out on his hand.

“Sorry,” he says.

“No, don't.” Thor grabs a napkin and wipes the spit from his hand. “It's for you. Though I have to admit, I would prefer if you ate it yourself. Did you master feed you all the time?”

He recalls warm fingers of his Master, slipping pieces of fruit into his mouth. He nods.

“He cared for me.” The memory sends a pang of pain through his heart. But he lifts his head, shyly to look at Thor and asks, with a glimmer hope he cannot contain. “Are you my master now?”

“No, you have no master. You're free, Loki, you can do whatever you want, go wherever you want.”

He feels the corners of his mouth dropping. 

“Can I go back to my Master?”

Thor sighs.

“Apart from that.”

Slave feels tears pooling in his eyes. He turns his head and rests it on the glass. He doesn't want to cry. Not again. But there's nothing else he can do. Tears start rolling down his cheeks and he bits his lips to contain a sob.

“You never answered me,” Thor asks after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “If you remember me. Do you know who I am?”

Slave hesitates for a moment. He knows the name. He's not sure what it means or even how to say it properly. It's been so long... Finally though his memory comes back and his lips form a familiar shape.

“Thor.”

“Good,” The man smiles softly. “And you? Do you know your name?”

“I have no name.”

“Nah, that's not true. You're Loki of Asgard, son of Odin. Can you repeat that?”

“Loki of Asgard, son of Odin.”

For some reason uttering the last part brings him almost physical pain. But he brushes it aside: it's just words. They mean nothing.

“Good, good.” Thor repeats and slave can't help thinking about his previous Master. “We're brothers, you know? Can you call me that? Brother?”

“Yes, brother.”

Thor's smile contorts into uncomfortable grin.

“Why does it sound like another way of saying 'master'”? he asks.

“I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be. It's all right. We'll get there. Do you, uh, remember anything else?”

He doesn't want to remember. Remembering only brings pain. But of course, Thor wants him to suffer. This one he knows. Thor hates him, they all do. Only his Master... Only his Master ever cared for him.

Slave drops his head and stares at the tray.

_His back turned._

“You left,” he stammers finally.

“Yeah, that, uh... Sorry about that. It was a horrible thing to do, I know and I... I can only hope that one day you'll forgive me. Do you have any, uh, earlier memories? Good ones?”

He frowns. There may be something... The elevator?

_“Ah, yes. He appeased you with sweet words just to betray you as soon as you turned your back. Typical. You can't trust those mortals, they're uh, not the good sort of... You know. You can only trust me. Do you trust me, sweetheart?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“That's good. Very good. You're treasure, you know that? Open your mouth, you deserve a reward.”_

He shakes his head, a sudden tightness in his throat prevents him from speaking.

“Ah, okay. Okay. Let me come up with something. Remember that time when you borrowed father's ring to study and I caught you? You were so startled that you dropped it right into the moat. Father sent us both to search for it. We looked like two trolls, all covered in mud and duckweed.”

He remembers...

_Mud filling his mouth and nostrils, eyes and ears. A heavy hand tangled in his hair, pushing him down._

“You almost drowned me,” he says flatly.

“Nah, we had a little brawl, but was all in a good spirit. Okay, you know what? Never mind. Bad example. Anything else you remember? Anything from Asgard?”

Asgard... He knows that word too. His memory is a mess, shrouded in thick haze. But slowly, images start to emerge....

_A palace made of gold._

_A room – his room? – adorned with gold and green (his colors), heads of monsters he hunted mounted on the walls, shelves heavy with books and artifacts._

_An orchard, apples shining like jewels in the sun, a sylphlike woman with bright hair and freckles all over her face, running from him with laughter._

_A garden, lush greens, flowers in shapes and colors he's never seen on Sakaar. Another woman, older, her soft hands, gentle smile... Mother?_

_“Queen Frigga is dead.”_

_Cold, impersonal voice of man standing in shadows._

_“Queen is dead.”_

_White light, so bright it almost blinds him. Room no bigger than a cubbyhole, filled with broken wood and glass, pages torn from books flying around, spilled wine, crushed fruits. Transparent walls, but no one behind them to see him or be seen. Loneliness so severe that it makes him scream, echo being his only company, but then his voice dies and he's alone again._

He closes his eyes, just to escape it.

“Are you going to put me back in that cell?” he asks instead of answering.

“A cell? No, why...”

“You promised. And afterward, this cell. That's what you said.”

“Well, yeah, but it was a long time ago. We reconciled since then.”

“Oh.”

He doesn't remember that. Why did Thor leave him on Sakaar then? He doesn't ask: it doesn't matter. It's all past. And there's no point looking for the answers in the past, right? It brings only pain and betrayal. It's better to let it go. To forget.

He just wishes Thor would stop asking.

“And then you betrayed me again.”

He can't remember that either. All he remembers is electricity running through his body and Thor's back turned on him. And his words...

“You should kill me then,” he says flatly. “You promised that too.”

“And you think I would really do that?”

There's something in Thor's voice he cannot identify. Pain? No, that's impossible. People like Thor know no pain. They're too good for that, too fucking bright, he thinks bitterly. And he realizes something else: he wanted to see Thor in pain. He wanted to hurt him, to make him feel... the way he did.

He sighs heavily. There's no point in thinking that. He can never succeed. It's better to just... let go. And if Thor wants to kill him, there's no way to stop him anyway.

“It doesn't matter. There is no cell to put you in anymore, Asgard is gone. We had to destroy it to stop Hela. Remember Hela, our sister? Don't answer. She took my eye, incidentally. Anyway, we destroyed it and moved what's left of our people to Midgard. That's where we live now. That's where we're going.” Slave feels a heavy weight on his arm: Thor's hand, he realizes. “Midgardians are nice people, I'm sure they'll forgive everything you did. We'll get you back on your feet and you'll take your place at my side. And I will never leave you again, I promise.”

_“Betray me and I will kill you.”_

Thor reaches out and pats slave's knee, making him flinch.

“I won't bother you anymore. Eat something, have some rest. Bathroom's on the left, first door to your side. Kitchen's also on the left, end of the corridor. Someone's usually there, they'll show you how to get food or drink or whatever you need. We don't have any spare rooms, so you'll have to sleep on a couch. Sorry. Right door leads to engines, storage and such, so, uh, don't go there. We'll stay in space for a couple of days until we reach Earth. So, yeah. See you around.”

With these words he gets up and leaves. Slave wants to reach out and ask him to stay, despite everything. He loathes being alone, he loathes being left behind. But something stops him and only much later he finds a name for it.

Pride.

* * *

He's awaken by a light touch on his shoulder. He jerks his head, but immediately lowers it. In a split second he registers another person – a woman – kneeling in front of him. He doesn't recognize her.

“Hey, it's okay. You can look at me, you know.”

He swallows. Does she really mean it? Or is it just a ploy to give her the pretext to punish him? He lifts his head slightly and looks at her. She has a soft face, gray eyes and an awkward smile.

“I think we haven't been introduced properly,” she says when she realizes he isn't going to speak. “My name is Wanda.”

Wanda? He searches his mind, but finds nothing. Either he's never heard of her, or he forgot. He wonders what's her role. She doesn't look like a warrior and yet he can feel there's more to her than meets the eye. Long ago he could probably tell what it is. Now he doesn't care.

“I'm a sorceress,” she continues, though her smile becomes strained. “Do you know what that means?”

The word sounds familiar, but once again he fails to understand its meaning. He shakes his head.

“I, uh... I can read people's minds. Among other things. And, uh, Steve actually asked me to do this to you. To see if we can't help you somehow.”

She's lying, he realizes with certainty that scares him. Helping him is the last thing they have on their minds. More likely they're looking for something to use against him, to hurt him again. But he does nothing to let her know that he knows, he just nods impassively. There's no point fighting.

“Only if you let me,” she adds quickly. “Will you let me?”

“Yes,” he says. 

“Okay.” She hesitates. “You know, we don't have to do it, right? Just say a word and I'll stop.”

He doesn't say anything. It doesn't matter. He has nothing to hide – nothing he can hide. His old Master could read him like a book, there was nothing he could do to avoid it. So he stopped trying.

The woman places her hands at the sides of his head. She closes her eyes and soon he can feel her mind prodding his. It's much different than the subtle manipulations of his Master, more primitive and he feels that if he tried he could push her away without much trouble. But he lets her read. Her face changes, eyes tremble behind the eyelids, lips twist with strain and something else he cannot name. Finally, she jerks away from him with a scream then throws up.

The doors burst open and Avengers start pouring into the room. Slave feels his stomach turning. They were waiting for it. It was all a plot and now they're coming to punish him...

But they don't come to him. The first one – Captain – grabs Wanda and helps her to the couch. Barton brings up a cup of water and for a while they all focus on calming her down. They don't even notice he's been staring – he knows he shouldn't, but he can't stop himself, he's never seen a free person react so violently. Wanda is as pale as a hologram, her whole body shaking and her face wet with tears. Captain keeps his arms around her.

“I told you!” she spits finally. “There's nothing but filth in there!”

“Wanda, Wanda...” Calms her Captain. “It's okay. Tell me what you saw.”

“Filth! Nothing but filth!”

“Okay.” He runs a hand over his face. “Did you see anything behind it?”

“Damn you, Steve.” She stands up violently and starts pacing the room. “If there's anything of old Loki left in him, it's buried under so much filth that it doesn't matter anyway...”

“It couldn't be that bad.” Only now slave realizes that Thor is also here, standing a bit further aside, with arms crossed and a frown on his face. “I mean, we all knew what to expect...”

“Oh, what could you know about it?!” She jumps at him with a raised fist, but Steve catches her before she can hit the Thunderer. “Spending your whole life in a shiny castle, shielded from everything and everyone that could harm you. What could you know about the ugly sides of life?”

“I was there,” he reminds her and she answers with hysteric laughter.

“Oh, really?! You were gladiator once and you think you know everything?! And did you know that Grandmaster also hosted another kind of shows? Ones where participants, like your brother, were tied down in the center of an arena and the beast – I don't know what to call it, some kind of mix between the horse, elephant and rhino – was lead to, to...”

“Wanda...”

“I didn't want to know that too, Steve!” she screams then burst into sobs, covering her mouth. Captain surrounds her with his arms and pulls her to his chest again.

“It's all right,” Captain hums calmingly. “It's over.”

She sniffs loudly and very not lady-like.

“But you don't have to be afraid,” she says bitterly after a while. “They fucked the brain out of him. There's not an ounce of free will left inside.”

The eyes of everyone in the room turns toward slave and he lowers his head. So that's what they wanted. To know if he's dangerous. Of course he's not. He could tell them that. Though he vaguely remembers that they have no reason to believe him. He's not the one to be trusted. And they fought... They fought over... something. He can't remember. But they beat him, right? He knows that much. So why would they be afraid of him? Even if he was still capable of fighting...

“Are you all right?” Someone approaches him and crouches at his side. Thor.

“Yes.”

“I promise.” A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and he shudders. “If I ever see that monster again, I will gut him like a fish.”

Loki frowns. Does he mean..?

“No.” He jerks and looks at Thor. “Please, don't hurt Master.”

Shock paints on Thor's face.

“Are you... Are you still defending him?! After all he's done?!”

“He's never done anything I wouldn't let him.”

That's true. Master always made sure his slave was comfortable with whatever they were doing. He wouldn't take no for an answer, of course. But he always strove to get yes.

Thor stands up violently.

“Oh, really? So it was all your idea to get mounted by a horse?”

“Well, no, but, I understand...”

It was his least favorite part, to be honest. But Master always rewarded him handsomely and was very sweet to him for weeks afterward. So slave accepted it without complains.

“Understand what?” Thor shouts with a pang of something – hysteria? – in his voice.

“My Master spend a lot of money on keeping me. So it's only fair that I gave something back...”

“Are you even serious?!” Thor shouts again and slave cowers. “He kept you by force and made you pay for it?! And you say it's all right?!”

For the first time slave feels a pang of uncertainty. It made perfect sense when Master explained it. And he shouldn't doubt his Master. Never.

“He never did anything I wouldn't let him,” he repeats pitifully. That much is true, at least he knows that. “And he never used the obedience disk on me.”

Thor steps back, like he was punched in the face and slave braces himself for a punishment. But it doesn't come – the man just turns to his friends, as if looking for support.

“That one's on you, buddy,” comes from the Captain and Thor's face twists painfully.

“And were you even gonna tell us, that you didn't just leave him there?” spits Wanda, still nestled in soldier's arms.

“What do you mean?” asks Captain, and a frown on Thor's face becomes even more painful.

“He left Loki with that damned thing on. Indefinitely. When they found him, hours later, he was already half mad from that torture.”

“I thought it was gonna turn off in few seconds,” protests Thor.

“Well, it didn't.”

“It doesn't matter now,” cuts Captain, but the sudden paleness and a tension in his voice suggest otherwise. “What's done is done. We should focus on helping Loki now.”

“I don't even know if that's possible anymore.” It's Thor's turn to start pacing around the room. “Wanda, did you see... anything that would make you think, that my brother is still there?”

_“… that my brother was still in there somewhere. That hope no longer exists to protect you. You betray me, and I will kill you.“_

The woman shakes her head.

“I didn't look past the Sakkar. I'm sorry, I just couldn't...”

“It's all right,” Captain calms her once again. “We'll get there.”

Thor stops to look at the slave, making him drop his head.

“It would be easier if we could just make him forget about everything that happened since Sakaar.”

The slave feels his stomach turning. He can't mean that, can he? Times spend with his Master... Are the only good memories he has.

“Please, don't,” he pleads.

“Why?” Thor steps towards him and slave curls in his corner. “That man did nothing but harm to you. Why do you care so much for him?”

“Because he was conditioned,” spits Wanda.

Liar! Like all of them. Slave ignores her and focuses on Thor. Maybe at least he can be reasoned with...

“Because he cared for me.” He feels tears pooling in his eyes. “He told me that. He called me his treasure...”

“He used you to fulfill his darkest desires, can't you see that?” asks Thor.

“He called me precious,” slave insists. “You called me a disgrace.”

Thor stops pacing and stares at him gloomily.

“It was once...”

“He called me treasure every day. He told me he was proud of me, of how strong I am, how brave...”

“For taking a horse cock?!”

There's a laugh in Thor's voice, but it's joyless, almost hysteric. Slave doesn't see a reason to laugh. And it wasn't a horse, it was seleuugah. Hard to expect Thor to see a difference, though.

“Would you take it?!” he speaks too loud, filled with anger.

“No! Because the first man to suggest that would look for his prick in another galaxy!”

“I'm not like you. I'm not a great warrior that can bend the universe to his whims. I'm not... good for anything else...”

“That's not true. You were a great sorcerer once, what happened to that?”

“Since when is being a sorcerer respectable?”

“More respectable than being a whore!”

A whore. Master never called him that. No one ever dared to insult him when he was under Master's protection. Only Thor. Slave feels his cheeks burning and tears finally spilling. He turns his head to the glass.

“For you I am a whore,” he spits bitterly. “For my Master I was treasure. Why did you even bother taking me if you despise me so much?”

“I saved you, you stupid cow!”

“It's you I need saving from! I was happy there. Safe.”

“You're safe here,” Captain says, finally letting off Wanda and standing up.

Slave doesn't feel safe. Quite the opposite.

“Thor, you're not winning him this way,” Captain murmurs to Thunderer, possibly hoping the slave won't hear that. Thor huffs, annoyed, but ultimately decides to let Captain do his thing. The man approaches slave and squats beside him.

“It's all right, Loki. I think I know where you're coming from. But he did hurt you and he hurt so badly that you can't even see it now. It doesn't make it any less real or less despicable. But it's over now. No one will exploit you anymore. We're gonna help you.”

_“I'm gonna help you. It's gonna be all right, darling, you just need to, uh, need to learn to let go, you know? Let others take lead. It will get much easier from there, I promise.”_

Tears run down slave's cheeks.

“He already did,” he whispers.

* * *

“Hey, I brought you something.”

He doesn't lift his head. Thor grabs his hand and puts the thing in it. It's a flat rectangle, made with rubber and glass. Thor presses a button on its side and it flares up. White, with rows of black markings.

“It's called a reader. It's like a book, but more modern. You remember what books are, right? You used to love reading.”

He did. But it was a long time ago. Reading led to thinking and thinking led to pain, so he stopped. And Master made sure he had no opportunities to suffer under his care.

But now his master is Thor. And Thor wants him to suffer.

There's no point resisting, he learned that already. He looks at the markings and frowns.

“Can you read that? It's English. They don't have anything in Asgardian, I'm really sorry.”

He's not sure. It's been so long since the last time he read anything... He tries to focus and slowly, one by one, he starts recognizing letters. Soon enough he starts recognizing words.

He nods.

“Good. Try to read that. I don't know if you're gonna like it, but it's something to pass the time. Good luck.”

_“Good luck, I guess.”_

He shivers, but Thor doesn't seem to notice. He turns, visibly abashed, but doesn't leave. After a moment of silence, he speaks again.

“Do you remember how our father died?”

Slave doesn't so he just shakes his head.

“You cursed him and banished to Midgard. And when we found him, with his last words... He said that our mother would be proud of you. He said he loved you.”

Slave tries to remember this father... Odin? He can barely make out the proud figure with a milk-white beard and an eye-patch...

_“No, Loki.”_

He shifts uncomfortably.

“He lied,” he says with utmost certainty.

“Nah, I'm pretty sure he was honest. For the first time in your life, maybe. But he meant it.”

Slave almost wishes he could share Thor's confidence.

“And I... I loved you too, Loki. Maybe I didn't say that enough... Maybe I was too arrogant to let you know how much I needed you by my side. But I did. I still do. You are... You are my brother, Loki. And I missed you so much. Your wits, your pride, your tricks and your magic. There isn't a day when I'm not thinking about you, about everything that happened between us. There isn't a day when I'm not regretting... So, please. Even if you come back just to hate me again... Please come back.”

Slave looks up to see Thor's only eye filled with tears. He drops his head. Deep inside, a part of him he forgot exists wants this to be true. But in his ears, he can still hear different words.

_“...that hope is no longer here to protect you.”_

He's not sure what to believe anymore.

* * *

Thor leaves him with a reader, but slave can't focus. He knows letters, but many words mean nothing to him and whole sentences... It's too much. His head start spinning and his eyes sting.

But what's worse, it makes him _think_.

_“You think too much, darling, that's your problem. You just can't let go, you know, relax. And does it ever solve anything? No, it doesn't. So what's the point? You're just making yourself miserable. And what's worse, you're making me miserable. You need to stop, we won't tolerate that here. No, no, we're all about fun here, all about good times. Forget all your troubles. Have some fun. We love fun here, we love having a good time. Are you having a good time? You will.”_

He realizes bitterly that this will be his life from now on. He'll never feel the warm touch of his Master's hand again. Never hear his gentle cooing. Never know the sweet freedom of oblivion. No, the only things he'll know from now are memories, misery and pain.

He rests his head on a glass and looks at the stars. He hasn't moved since Thor left him, he still kneels by the window with hand on his thighs and reader dropped on the floor beside him. He's hungry, thirsty and needs to go to the bathroom, but he doesn't dare to move without a command, so he just pushes his needs away. It must've been more than a day since anyone tended to him. On Sakaar and later Grandmaster's ship he was never left alone, not for that long. Someone was always with him, whether it was Master, one of his guest or at least servants. And it's not that he misses Thor's company or anyone else's for that matter. But he hates being alone. He hates having nothing to do.

(Well, he could read, but that's too tiring.)

Then he realizes. The ring is no longer there.

He shifts again and licks his lips. He looks around, quickly: no one's here.

It is not allowed... But no one's here to stop him. And could any punishment be worse than that?

He lifts one hand and touches himself. The coarse fabric stands in his way, but it's not... entirely a problem. He can work with that. He rubs a couple of times and feels his cock hardening. He looks around again: still no one. He frees his member, then grabs it and starts stroking. He closes his eyes and tries thinking about Master. His warm fingers, buzzing with energy against his skin. Soft cooing in his ears. Hot breath on his neck...

“Loki!”

He jerks up, opening his eyes and putting hands on his thighs. With the corner of his eye, he sees Thor entering the lounge, but he keeps his head straight, not daring to look there.

Now he's done. They're going to punish him. Tie him, beat him, probably put that ring on him again. No, he realizes with a dread. Not ring. Obedience disk.

“Oh my god,” another voice reaches him. The Witch.

“Get dressed, for Norn's sake,” Thor says with clear embarrassment, approaching Loki. The slave obediently hides his cock back in his pants. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks automatically, without thinking. Thor stops in shock.

“What?”

It's too late to take it back. Anyway, that's what is expected of him, right? Do what he's told.

“I'll do what you want. Just tell me what it is.”

“Loki, I'm not... sure if you got it. You're not a slave anymore. You don't have to do what you're told.”

Slave feels the corners of his mouth dropping. If he's not slave, then who is he? And what is he supposed to do if no one's here to tell him? He feels his head spinning again. He never asked for it... Any of it. He wants to go back to his Master, where everything was plain and easy. And fun.

“If I won't do what you say, how will you know when to reward me?” he asks before he can think better.

“I'm not jerking you off,” Thor says roughly. Of course. Expecting Thor to do something good for him is ludicrous. “What the hell are you thinking?!”

He thinks what he was taught. How his life worked for the past of years. What is Thor expecting of him?!

“Thor,” the woman speaks softly, putting a placating hand on Thunderer's shoulder. “Give him time. He lived as a sex toy for the past years, it will take him some time to readjust to normal life.”

Thor huffs, but doesn't answer, looking at Loki with disgust.

“I would just like to know that there's still a bit of humanity left in you,” he says finally with frustration clear in his voice. Slave doesn't answer. If there's one thing he can be sure of it's that he's never been human.

* * *

To his surprise, Thor asks him to join them for a meal. Slave follows him without a word, until they enter what must be a canteen. All the Avengers are already there, seated around a large, round table. He can feel their eyes on him even though he keeps his head low. Thunderer moves a chair for him and slave kneels in the emptied space.

“Loooki,” the man chaste then yanks slave off the floor and pushes him into a chair. It's uncomfortable and from this position it's harder to avoid looking at others. He lowers his head so much that his chin rests at his neck and stares blankly at the tabletop. At his side Thor sighs then pushes something into his hand. A transparent bag with something green and mushy inside. And a fork. Of course. They expect him to feed himself now. He suppresses the annoyed huff and starts eating. The food is rather tasteless, but it fills him up.

“You can raise your head, Loki, you don't have to bow anymore,” he hears the gentle voice at his side. Captain.

He hums and raises his head slightly. Just enough the see the table and the hands of people around him.

“I think there are some people you haven't met,” continues Thor cordially. “There's Vision. Hey! Look at me. Look at my hand. That's it, not, this man here. Vision. Say hi.”

Slave reluctantly obeys and follows Thor's hand to send a quick look at a man. He has a red skin and strangely familiar gem lodged in his forehead.

“Hello, Loki,” he says with a slow, friendly voice. “It's pleasure to meet you.”

Slave doesn't know what to do, so he lowers his head again. Thor sighs and grabs his chin, forcing him to look around.

“Over there is Peter.” The young man with uncertain expression nods, but doesn't say anything. “Scott” Next one is older, with dark hair and a stubble.

“Hi,” he says with a smug smile.

“And Rhodey.” A dark-skinned man, the oldest of the four, also responds with only a nod. Thor finally frees his face and slave immediately drops his head again. He can't help it. Looking at faces makes him uncomfortable. He can look at their cocks all they want.

“So, did you get used to your new situation? Loki?” asks Captain. No one answers and slave feels a light nudge from Thor. Oh. That means the question is for him?

That name they're using. He should get used to it. Loki. Loki of _(lies)_ , son of _(lies)_. He needs to learn to react to it if he doesn't want them to beat it into him.

For now, he shifts uncomfortably, not sure how to answer.

“I'm all right,” he says finally without conviction.

“I bet it's the quality of food that gets him depressed,” speaks Barton, earning a few exasperated huffs from around the table.

“When YOU design a spaceship, you can eat whatever you want on it,” answers Stark. “But as long as I have something to say, there'll be no crumbles on my ship.”

Barton scoffs.

“You could at least take some fresh fruits and veggies. I would kill for an apple now.”

“Well, Sherlock, fresh produce tends to lose its freshness over time, so even if I took it, it would be long gone...”

“That's bullshit. Bananas spend months before they reach supermarkets and they're still edible. You were just lazy.”

“Okay, I admit.” Stark lifts his hand in surrounding gesture. “I just saw something called astronaut foods on Amazon and couldn't help myself. I didn't think this through, okay? Next time we'll pack some fucking bananas. Are you happy?”

“I'll be happy when I get back to Earth. God, I never thought I would miss salad so much...”

“Is that really your biggest concern now?” asks Captain, with clear impatience.

“What do you want me to do, cry for Loki?” Barton shrugs. “How's that gonna help?”

“So you're just hoping that he'll get so annoyed that he'll instantly recover and get up to smack you?” asks Wanda playfully.

“You know what? I think I would actually prefer that.”

“Yeah, I have to admit, that new Loki is creeping the fuck out of me,” agrees Stark. “I never thought I would say it, but can we get the old Loki back?”

“That's the ultimate goal,” says Captain.

“With a couple of tweaks, preferably,” adds Barton.

“Well, we'll see about that...”

“Ignore them, Loki” advises Thor at his side. “How do you enjoy your meal?”

Slave nods, but the awkward silence that follows means they probably expect more of him.

“Thank you,” he says hesitantly. Thor sighs.

“Yeah. I almost wish you called it a disgusting slop it actually is and throw it at my face.”

Slave hesitates. It doesn't sound like any order he's been given... But it's closest he got since he was taken.

“Do you want me to do it?” he asks.

“No. Finish eating.” He already finished. It wasn't terribly filling and almost completely unsatisfying. He doesn't know what to do with the bag though. “Give me that.” He obeys and the empty bag is replaced with another one. This one contains some brown bits covered in very aromatic sauce. “This one is chicken curry, I believe.”

“This has nothing to do with the real curry,” opposes Widow.

“And why do we have to waste the only thing with something resembling a taste on him?” moans Clint. “We could feed him nothing but dried potatoes and he would be grateful.”

“He would say he's grateful, not feel it,” opposes Cap. “Those are different things.”

“We want Loki to feel welcomed here,” explain Thor with a frown.

“And it's not only the food,” slips Stark. “Dry air and low pressure affect your senses of smell and taste. There's no way in hell anything ate here taste good.”

“How's your memory?” asks Captain. Probably to prevent the others from talking about food again. Slave has to think about the answer though.

“Yeah, do you even know who we are?” asks Stark casually. Slave answers almost without hesitation.

“Avengers.” And after a while, he adds: “Earth's mightiest heroes.”

Someone at his side huffs with amusement, but he barely notices. He just realized... They're called that because of him. Because of something he's done. He remembers... he remembers them standing around, with weapons aimed at him. He feels breath dying in his chest.

“It's all right.” Thor grabs his hand and squeezes in what was probably supposed to be reassuring, but it only makes the slave feel weak and powerless.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asks quietly.

“I told you already that I'm not.”

“What about the others?”

“We promised to help you,” says Captain.

“Why? Your name doesn't speak of mercy.”

“It was picked on a whim,” slips Stark.

“And you suffered enough,” adds Captain. "More than enough. Punishing you further would be nothing but mindless cruelty.

“No one's gonna hurt you here,” confirms Thor, but it's all lies. Slave rips his hand from Thor's.

“Why?! You never helped me before, so why now?” His breathing gets heavy and tears start pooling in his eyes. His heart is beating like a hammer, threatening to crush his ribs and break free. He would almost prefer that. Death over...

“Loki, calm down.”

“No!” He stands up, sending his chair flying and starts walking back towards the door. It's pointless, he knows. There's nowhere to run. Not on this small, shitty ship. He's trapped.

_Light so bright it blinds._

He falls on his knees, sobbing. No! Not again!

“Loki!”

He feels someone kneeling at his side, but he has no strength to run anymore. Heavy arms close around him, buzzing with primeval power, alien and hostile, promising nothing but pain. Slave curls, trying to escape the other's touch, but to no avail, the man just pulls him closer and presses him against his chest. He smells of leather and ozone.

_The shock runs through his body, burning every single nerve cell. He wants to get away, but he can't move, his body's not responding, torn by violent spasms, he's shaking and he can't do anything and over that, over the buzz of electricity and rush of blood in his ears, he hears the Thunderer's voice._

_“Will you yield?”_

With one last yelp, slave slips from the Thunderer's grab and faints.

* * *

Then, for the first time in years, he's plagued by nightmares.

_Pale being with no eyes and too many digits promising he'll beg for pain._

_Blue haze in his mind._

_Smell of hot metal, leather, sweat and blood._

_Air rushing around him, then coming to a sudden stop as the pain explodes in his whole body._

_Thor and his companions standing around, their weapons aimed at him._

_The abyss opening beneath his feet._

_“Betray me and I'll kill you.”_

_Something sucking the air from his lungs, the saliva boiling on his tongue. He falls into the darkness that's also blinding white light, he sits and falls, and all around him faces – Thor – Odin – Captain – Stark – The Other. Sneering, mocking, threatening, laughing, all at the same time._

_“I'll kill you.”_

_“No, Loki.”_

_“He'll make you beg for something as sweet as pain.”_

_“Puny god.”_

_“The queen is dead.”_

_“Your birthright was to die!”_

He wakes up screaming.

From across the room, Thor – real one – shoots him a worrying look. Slave averts his gaze, tries to calm his desperate panting, clenches together trembling hands. Someone moved him from the canteen, put him on a couch and wrapped in a blanket. It would be nice, if only he wasn't stuck on this bloody ship.

“You're all right there Loki? It's about time you wake up. We're almost on Midgard.”

Midgard.

_The abyss. The cell. The Avengers, looming above him._

_“He'll make you beg for something as sweet as pain.”_

He wants to scream.

**Author's Note:**

> When I think of Loki in this chapter, I see him like he was in The Dark World, stuck in his cell after Frigga's death. I say this, because at first I wanted to write this chapter from Thor's POV and that would include the mention of how Loki now reminded him of that time and make Thor realize that maybe he wasn't such a great brother after all. But ultimately I decided to stick with Loki's POV, it's more interesting.


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